


Always

by UnsteadyGenius



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, brotherhood era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 15:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12279339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnsteadyGenius/pseuds/UnsteadyGenius
Summary: Noctis is at his breaking point and Ignis is fed up.





	Always

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a fanart online of Ignis holding Noctis and I interpreted it as something like this (oh, and listening to 'How to Save a Life' by The Fray helped, too).
> 
> Basically unedited and my shortest work to date. Eh, oh well. Hope you enjoy :)

The shades were drawn and the sheets were kicked to the bottom of the bed. Noctis’ arms were crossed around his abdomen and he curled into himself, eyes closed. He felt so insignificant and tiny and all he wanted was to feel alive.

It had been a long week. He’d spent half of it studying for the exam next week and the other half beside himself at the fact that he’d seen his father with a _cane_. A _motherfucking cane_. His father wasn’t old, by any means, so Noctis was an absolute wreck inside when he was with Prompto, walking down the streets of Insomnia after school, and saw his father on the large projection screen, leaning on a cane like it was just some everyday thing. Prompto tried to joke about it, but Noctis wasn’t having it.

 When he came home that day, he had no want or desire to do anything at all. It was like a black hole in his chest opened up and sucked out every emotion, every thought, _everything_ in and of itself. He tried for an hour or two to focus on studies, sitting at the kitchen table while holding his head up with his hands, but the text jumbled together and blurred in a mess of words. Then, he tried to clean his shitstorm of an apartment, but that was an epic failure. He managed to move his dishes from one basin of the sink to the other, dusted half of a windowsill, and put a pillow upright against the couch cushion. He picked up one sock and half-heartedly tossed it into his laundry hamper before going to lay down in his king-size bed.

Soon, Ignis—tutor, Royal Advisor, and childhood friend—would be over to educate him further on the Astrals, the history of Solheim, and the War against Niflheim, and Noctis had half a mind to text him and say not to bother. The request for him to not come over would fall on deaf ears; Ignis had made it known he was beyond done with Noctis’ supposed laziness lately and he’d be over, come Ifrit’s lair or high water.

It wasn’t laziness, though. It was something more, something that Noctis tried for years to fight to no avail. It was waking up and wishing it was possible to fall back asleep for the next ten years. It was laughing and smiling, but feeling nothing at all. It was snapping at his father as he fussed with his unruly hair, only to feel incredibly guilty when he saw the hurt look on his worn and tired face. But most of all, it was trying to get through the day in one piece while still wondering when it all would stop hurting _so fucking much_.

Keys jingled at the front door of his apartment but Noctis didn’t move. Soon, the door was unlocked and it creaked open. “Highness?” an accented voice called out upon entering. Noctis tightened his grip on himself, bracing for the inevitable lecture. The passive-aggressive sighing. The disappointed eyeroll. The usual from what would be Ignis’ predictable tirade when he saw the state of things.

Noctis didn’t say anything, listening instead for the footsteps as they paced around the apartment, surveying the mess. Anxiety gripped his throat, constricting his lungs with unexplained dread. He didn’t want to deal with this today. Not now. Please, not now. And, honestly, it wasn’t that Noctis was a slob, really; he meant well and tried his damndest to keep his place clean, his schoolwork done, and remain out of trouble. It was just _really hard_ to do much of anything, anymore.

“Highness!”

Noctis groaned and rolled over as the footsteps stormed to his bedroom. The door flew open and Ignis’ silhouette stood in the doorway. More often than not, Ignis really didn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve, choosing instead to sit back and observe everything around him with a carefully constructed mask of stoicism. Today, though, he was positively peeved. His eyebrows knitted together, his mouth formed a tight thin line, and his body was tense, fists balled at his side. Noctis wished the bed would swallow him whole right about now.

“Of _course,_ I’d find you here; after I _told_ you to please ready yourself for my arrival. Have you done _anything_ I asked of you today? No, of course not.” Ignis huffed and rolled his eyes. “This flat is a disgrace! Do you have any idea what your father would say if he saw this? Sweet Ice Mother, he’d have _both_ our heads! Honestly, Highness, I ask you to complete a few simple tasks, and you choose to take a nap instead, but I guess that’s to be expected of you, now isn’t it? I guess _I’ll_ clean your apartment . . . _again_ ,” he complained, emphasizing the word ‘again’ with disdain. “And did you even crack open your textbook?? How on _Eos_ do you expect to remain top of your class?” Another exaggerated sigh. “This is just _typical_ of you, Highness. I expect better from you.” When Noctis didn’t respond, it seemed to exasperate the advisor more and he turned on his heels to leave, mumbling under his breath.

Noctis tried to apologize, lifting his head off the pillow just enough to see out into the hallway, but Ignis was long gone by that point. He _hated_ when Ignis was upset with him. It wasn’t often that he was, but Ignis knew just how to lay the guilt on thick. He did so with such ease that Noctis wondered if Ignis was taught how in one of his fancy-schmancy classes at the school he attended for gifted children. It wouldn’t surprise him, really.

For the rest of the evening, Noctis listened as Ignis clamored about. The first half of his time at the apartment was spent cleaning: dishes, vacuuming, dusting, putting things back where they belong. He heard Ignis make a phone call, something about more paperwork and politics and ‘ _I’ll see to it that His Highness makes an appearance tomorrow,’_ . . . whatever that meant. Then, the fridge was opened, vegetables were cut, the smell of something _wonderful_ being cooked, and more dishes were cleaned.

 _I should go out there and help,_ he tried to convince himself. _Ignis is working his ass off, even after being at the Citadel all day, and I can’t even get the fuck out of bed to keep him company in the kitchen. I’m fucking useless._

The sun set and Ignis went around turning on various lamps and lights around the apartment. It was getting late and Noctis wondered if Ignis even remembered he was still holed up in the bedroom—either he was still angry with Noctis, or he genuinely forgot that he wasn’t the only one in the apartment tonight. Either way, both answers left a sour taste in his mouth and he almost just wanted to stay ignorant to what Ignis would’ve said.

The prince was still in a fetal position, eyes closed but not sleeping, in the dark on his bed when Ignis came back to his room, papers and his briefcase in hand. “I’ve cleaned and made you dinner, Highness. Unfortunately, I must be off. Your father has requested a hear . . . “

Noctis stopped listening at the mention of his father, arms crossed across himself as his hands gripped tight to his sides, clawing at the cloth of his black t-shirt. His breathing was labored and he mentally begged Ignis to go away, while at the same time pleaded for him to stay.

“ . . .it that you finish your studies this evening. You have that exam at the end of the week and you cannot get anything less than an A to remain the top student in your class, is that clear? One other thing; your training session with Gladiolus has been canceled so that you have enough time to make an appearance at the charity gala. I _hope_ you’ll at least be . . . _somewhat_ . . . presentable by the time I arrive to pick you up. Please, no repeat of today, understood?” When he didn’t respond, Ignis shifted and cocked his head to the side. Noctis could practically feel his intense stare burning a hole in his body. He knew Ignis was assessing the situation and it made Noctis even more uncomfortable. “Highness, are you ill? You haven’t moved at all since I arrived, though I chalked that one up to you sleeping.”

“’m fine,” he mumbled, a lump lodging in his throat for some reason as tears stung the corners of his eyes. _Of fucking course, I would choose now to cry. I’m such a wuss. Gods, no wonder Iggy’s so sick of me. I can’t even stand myself._

He heard Ignis lightly step into his room, gently setting his belongings on a nearby desk before coming to Noctis’ bedside. Standing over Noctis, Ignis took off his right glove and placed the back of his hand to Noctis’ forehead, humming. “No, it’s not a fever,” he noted as he moved his hand to Noctis’ cheek, then the back of his neck. “Have you been getting your rest? It does not do well to stay up late playing vid—"

Just as Ignis tried to force him to look up, Noctis smacked his hand away. “I said I’m fine," he yelled. "Leave me alone. You’re dismissed, alright?”

But, Ignis didn’t move. He stood for a second or two longer as Noctis settled deeper into the bed, or as much as he feasibly could. “Noct?” The voice was tinged with worry and concern. Noctis closed his eyes again and waited for Ignis to walk away, out the door with his belongings in hand. He’d be alone for the rest of the night with only his thoughts to keep him company.

He was surprised, though. The bed dipped as Ignis sat on the edge of it before laying down, facing the young prince. Without a word, he wrapped one arm around Noctis’ side while his other hand came up and rested reassuringly on the back of his head, tangled in dark, messy locks.

The action startled him and his eyes popped open. “Iggy, you don’t have—”

“I know,” Ignis interrupted, his voice reverberating through his chest where Noctis had his ear pressed.

“Yeah, but your meeting . . .”

“My meeting can wait.”

“Oh.”

Noctis finally relaxed into Ignis’ chest, breathing in the scent of cologne and coffee. At one point, he realized that Ignis was running his hand through his hair and quietly shushing him, only to notice that the tears he’d fought earlier were now streaming down his face, dampening Ignis’ dress shirt as Noctis pressed his face harder into him. The room was quiet, the silence punctuated by Noctis sniffling every so often as he cried softly.

“You know I’m here for anything you need, Noct,” Ignis said. “I’ve always got your back, no matter what. Day or night, ok? And . . . I apologize for my temper, earlier. It was inexcusable.”

“Mmmhmmm,” Noctis mumbled, not entirely sure what to say, but he guessed that Ignis knew what he was trying to convey. He always did. They’d been friends— _brothers_ —for their entire lives. Sometimes, Noctis wondered if Ignis knew him better than he knew himself.

Being held and comforted didn’t make everything magically better. Something like this was just a temporary fix, a quick band-aid for the time being, but Noctis was eternally grateful nonetheless. The time passed and Noctis knew that he’d probably fall asleep soon in Ignis’ arms, only to wake up in the middle of the night, alone, after Ignis undoubtedly extracted himself from him and quietly slipped out, but right now this—protected from life’s demons—helped.

In that moment, it almost felt like the darkness could be kept at bay for a little while longer and maybe, just maybe, he could wake up and try again tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Depression is a bitch. Don't ever be afraid to reach out for help. Someone is always out there willing to listen. <3


End file.
